Chapter 21
The warm breeze of King's Cross station whipped around Edith's ankles. She looked up at the departures board. The two o'clock train to Downton was on time. Until very recently that sight would have caused a lead-like dread to settle in her stomach. King's Cross was always the beginning of the end for Edith. The start of the route home, to disappointed faces and voices of inadequacy. Not today. She was going back to Downton, to tell her parents what had happened and she would surely face disappointed faces and condemnations – they might call her stupid or desperate, probably both – but Edith smiled up at the departures board with the knowledge that she could survive. She wasn't stupid, desperate or disappointing; she was exactly who she wanted to be and she was loved and loved someone in return.
Anthony appeared beside her, she didn't look at him. The crowds swarmed around them, pigeons flew above their heads, and pecked about their feet. Train whistles, steam engines and the midday calls of the paperboys filled the air. Anthony shifted slightly, his fingers begun to caress the back of her hand. Heat shot through her arm and she cleared her throat. He intertwined his fingers with hers and Edith allowed herself a smile and a shake of the head. Without looking at him she spoke, "I thought we were going to be discrete – separate carriages, separate cars, certainly separate hands. " She laughed, it had been his idea and they'd only been apart for twenty minutes and he'd reneged. She parroted his own words back to him, "it would be terrible if someone were to see us and impart the news to your parents before we had the chance, they must hear it from us."
He looked resolutely ahead, "as with so many ideas, the theory proved easier than the practice." He tugged her hand so that she turned to face him. His smile was boyish, "I blame you."
"Me?! You sought me out! I was standing here minding my own counsel."
"But you did so looking devilishly alluring." Edith blushed at that and looked down at her feet. He had spent the week saying those kinds of things, but she couldn't believe them about herself, although sometimes she nearly did. His finger was under her chin coaxing her back up to face him, "would it be terribly inappropriate if I kissed you?"
Edith looked arched an eyebrow and glanced up to the ceiling, as if thinking about the question, "Well, I am your wife." And with that Anthony Strallan wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and pulled her into an embrace so passionate that it could only be deemed terribly inappropriate for a public place, no matter what the relationship between the two people enjoying it. Sure enough clucks of disapproval emanated from the crowds around them and whispers of judgment. But he didn't stop. Neither did she.
They'd spent a week at Ebury Street doing what Anthony had euphemistically called 'making up for lost time.' The staff learnt that if they did not emerge from the bedroom it was not because they had overslept.
Edith read Anthony's completed manuscript and forced him to package it up and send it to a publisher. Anthony read the draft of Edith's novel. It was a thinly veiled dramatization of her own life, a book made possible by her own wretched experiences at Downton - the irony was not lost on her. He was particularly pleased with a character called Lord Cowley who had blonde hair, blue eyes and a strong jaw. He was a war hero with a surprising sense of humour and a good heart. He was rather less pleased when he died in unfortunate circumstances in chapter nine.
Anthony's head snapped up from the book to look at Edith who was sitting at the other end of the sofa, her feet resting on his lap as she read The Times, "you killed me?"
Without looking up she arched an eyebrow, "Lord Cowley, you mean?"
"You killed him and in a ridiculous fashion, honestly Edith, falling off a tractor?!"
She laughed at him, "It's supposed to be comic." Languidly she turned the page of the paper, "and, of course, he trifled with our heroine –" she looked into his blue eyes, "he had to go."
"You'll have to re-write it."
She scowled, "not a chance." His eyes narrowed and, momentarily, she wondered if he was really angry. She'd ended the character's life in a fit of pique about Anthony during her confinement in Scotland and she'd felt better for it.
Her concern dissipated as he returned to reading with a wry smile, "I suppose I should be thankful you only killed me off in print."
"Indeed."
They hadn't talked about marriage since the proposal. They were already married. They'd been as intimate as two people could be and, Edith imagined, much more intimate than most married couples actually were (she was certain Aunt Rosamund's marriage had not compared to this). There wasn't a topic they couldn't discuss; there wasn't a thought she wouldn't share. There wasn't a place he hadn't kissed. What remained were mere formalities.
It was Anthony who raised the issue as they lay in bed together. Edith was lying on her front, face buried into the pillow, enjoying the lingering sensations fizzing in her chest and muddling her mind. Anthony flitted his fingers across her shoulder blades and into the dip of her waist. He meant to tickle her; he knew that she was sensitive there. Reluctantly she turned her head through the soft linen and poked half an eye out towards him. No matter which way they did it, he always looked so unruffled after sex, it was frustrating and attractive in equal measure.
"Do you want a big wedding?"
Edith was entirely puzzled by this question and curved her head fully round and rolled onto her side, "I beg your pardon?"
"A big wedding, would you like one?"
"I already had a big wedding. You were involved, if you recall."
"Yes, sorry, clumsily put. It's just that – if you didn't want one – another one – we could go to Gretna."
"Elope, you mean?"
Anthony furrowed his brow, "Well, me marrying you, the day after tomorrow, in the only place that can accommodate speedy unions, because you are perfect and I must make you my wife – if that is an elopement, then yes, I wonder, Lady Edith Crawley, if you would elope with me?"
It wasn't really an elopement. There was no rashness in the decision, no shame or anxiety. There wouldn't be many couples in Gretna who could honestly say they were free of those encumbrances. An elopement, if it could be called that, made sense between the two of them. They'd allowed everyone to interfere before but this time they had crafted their own story. They navigated their anger and regret and found each other. This was the logical conclusion. Edith slowly pushed herself up off the bed and mumbled her agreement in a kiss.
The next day Edith and Anthony found themselves in Gretna. The day after that they were at the blacksmiths and married.
Edith let out a heady sigh as Anthony pulled away from their embrace. The station, the whole world, seemed empty except for the two of them. She'd spoken the words before she realised, "thank you."
His arm still looped around her waist he responded with a quiet laugh, "for the kiss?"
"For everything."
He tilted his head and smiled shyly, "you're welcome."
The lump rose in her throat as the train hurtled towards Yorkshire. By the time they were in the back of Anthony's Rolls she was having trouble breathing. The houses and the barns and the fields were familiar. The heat was oppressive. The scenery spun. Sticky beads clustered on her neck. The car was small and getting smaller and smaller still.
"Stop! Stop now, please!" she was banging on the back of the driver's seat.
Anthony blue eyes were clouded with concern, he took her hand, "sweet one, what's wrong?"
The car had stopped and Edith wrenched her hand away grasping blindly for the door handle. She practically fell into the road. Anthony's protestations were barely audible over the buzzing in her ears. She gulped the fresh air and leaned back against the cool metal. She closed her eyes and she heard Anthony's hurried footsteps following her out of the car. Her voice sounded alien, "I don't think I can do this."
"We don't have to. We can go back to Locksley for a bit." He stepped to stand in front of her, shielding her from the sun and rested his hand on her abdomen which was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. A jolt of fire seared through her, she wasn't sure if it calmed her or not. He continued, "I can ravish you in every room of the house?"
Opening a solitary eye Edith cocked an eyebrow, "ravish me?"
"In every room."
"That does sound more enjoyable."
"High praise."
Edith managed a laugh and took two deep breaths, in and out, "No – no. They're expecting me. I've been fit into their schedule. It'll only get worse the longer we wait." He nodded in agreement. Why was he so calm? "This won't be like telling Constance you know. That was easy, this –"
"Easy for you" he interrupted, "she didn't attack you with a newspaper." Constance was delighted about the marriage but incensed about missing the wedding. Luckily for Edith she took her anger out entirely on Anthony, eloping was his idea, and Edith merrily tattled on him when pushed. She'd batted him about the head with a rolled up copy of The Times.
Anthony put his hand to her brow and rubbed away the moisture that had gathered at her temples, "love, what's this about? What are you worried about?"
Nerves swirled in Edith's chest and she met Anthony's eyes, "I'm so happy. For the first time since -" She wanted to finish the sentence. It was the first time since he'd left her, that perfect moment before he shattered her whole world. She wriggled her fingers beneath his and pulled his hand from her stomach. Running her thumb over the knuckles she spoke quietly, "When you kissed me this morning – I've never felt – it's too much, something will interfere, surely? I'm afraid they'll ruin it." She whispered the truth, hoping it'd get lost in the breeze, "I'm afraid it'll be like before."
His hand was on her face then, his fingers spread across her cheekbone and his thumb at the corner of her lips, "I do not know how your family will react. I can make you no promises about that. But I am not going anywhere. Not because we've spent the past two weeks in bed together, although we have, and not because we're married, although we are. I will not leave you again. I will never leave you." Very gently he kissed her lips, "you're stuck with me Edith Strallan."
That seemed to do the trick, Anthony's kisses were rather like opium, or so she imagined. Her breathing steadied, the world ceased its spinning. Edith reached up and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, "can you just-" she pulled him into her and kissed him again. If he was surprised he didn't show it, his weight pushed her back against the cool metal of the car and gave her exactly what she needed. Her worry melted away with the touch of lips and the sensation of his tongue. She could do anything with Anthony alongside her; she was a warrior, he made her that way.
His lips stopped their assault and hovered above hers, "better?"
"Afterwards."
His brow furrowed, "afterwards?"
"Ravishing – after we've told everyone."
A wave of understanding crept across Anthony's features and he smiled before clarifying, "In every room?"
Edith allowed herself a shy giggle, still slightly embarrassed by their easy intimacy, "Yes."
"Excellent." He held out his hand to help her back into the car, "shall we?"
Thomas's face was a picture of shock as she and Anthony walked through the front door of the Abbey. Edith suspected, somewhat proudly, that it probably took quite a lot to shock him. Carson's face mirrored it as his eyes shifted from Edith to Anthony and back again, "Lady Edith. I-."
"Hello, is everyone in the front room?"
With another suspicious look at Anthony, Carson led the way. Barrow bowed slightly for Edith and straightened immediately as Anthony passed him, his eyes narrowing.
Anthony hunched to whisper at the side of her face, "Everyone hates me."
Edith rested her hand on his arm and squeezed gently, "Yes. I don't though."
Carson cleared his throat as he entered the front room. Anthony stepped aside and Edith went first. Her heart was beating its way up through her throat.
"Lady Edith and-"
He'd barely begun before Mary, in full outdoor attire, stood up, "you're late. Tom and I are visiting three tenant farmers. The world does not wait for you-"
Mary's eyes flared and she was silent as Anthony entered the room behind Edith.
Carson, ever the proper butler, finished what he had begun, "and Sir Anthony Strallan."
The room was as silent as she'd ever known it. She wrote to say she had an announcement but she thought, perhaps hoped, that not everyone would make themselves available. She imagined having the conversation with just her Mama and relying on her to pass it on. Irritatingly, for the first time in her whole life, the entire family had done exactly what she'd asked, they'd all gathered together. Her Mother sat on the lounge chair next to her Grandmother. Mary, who was dressed to leave immediately, had sat back down on Anthony's arrival. Tom cowered in the corner, leaning on the windowsill as if planning an escape. His expression was strained; he was doing his best attempt at acting surprised. At the very back of the crowd, standing arrow straight with an expression of thunder was her Father. He looked, not at her, but at Anthony.
None of them spoke.
It was Rose who broke the silence. Edith hadn't even noticed her sitting in a small chair near where Carson stood. Her voice was even, as though Edith was paying a perfectly ordinary visit, "how was Scotland?"
Her eyes snapped to Rose, "I-er-I never made it that far." Tom cleared his throat uncomfortably, "well, I did but not – that is – I –" She had a speech prepared. She could parrot it on demand; she'd performed it for Anthony three times on the train on the way up. The words crowded in her mouth like a sticky sweet forcing her jaws together.
Cora spoke gently but firmly, "Edith, darling, please explain what's going on."
"Anthony and I-" Mary tittered and rolled her eyes. She'd seen them together in London and likely suspected what was coming. She thought Edith was an idiot, they all did, "Anthony and I-"
Her Father stepped forwards, his hand was balled tightly into a fist. He spit the words across the room, "you couldn't settle for nearly ruining her life Strallan? You had to come back to finish the job?"
"Papa-"
He raised his hand dismissively and continued to look behind her at Anthony, "you should've known better, I won't make the same mistake twice. I will certainly not let my daughter do so."
Edith was urgent now. Things would be said if they didn't let her tell them the whole story, things none of them could take back, "Papa! –"
Her Mother's hand was in hers suddenly and she looked at her with large brown eyes. They implored her to see sense, "your Father isn't wrong. You mustn't go backwards darling, you were doing so well." She must have feigned happiness excellently, either that or her Mother was blind to her middle daughter's true feelings. Edith decided there was no merit in deciding which of those scenarios was true. Cora continued, "you're going to marry Mr Gregson aren't you? He's young and smart. That's a good match." Red pigments flared in her cheeks and she felt Anthony shift behind her. Only one addition could make this experience more mortifying and it was talking about her former lover.
"Michael Gregson is married. But even if he wasn't, I-"
Interrupting again her father's angry voice echoed about the room, "fine. There will be someone else. But not him." His eyes flared towards Anthony again. "It was stupid last time. It would be madness now."
Cora's head nodded in agreement and she was talking again, her Father's lips moved on occasion. At one point everyone's eyes shifted to her Grandmother, apparently she had some sage advice on the topic as well. Even Carson appeared to contribute to the conversation.
Edith heard none of it, none of their protestations or rationalisations or criticisms. They knew nothing. Nothing at all. Speech forgotten, she shouted across the din of voices, "we are married. We are married." Her Mother's hand dropped from hers, Lord Grantham stilled. Mary's lips formed an o of surprise, but there was something in her eyes, it almost looked like pride.
"What the devil have you done?" her Father spoke to Anthony again.
"Stop that!" Everyone's heads snapped to Edith. "Stop talking to Anthony as though he kidnapped me in the night and forced me into this. I made the decision and I'd do it again and again and again."
His voice was raised and his cheeks were red, "He married you without a word to me, without permission."
"Technically Anthony has already sought permission and received it."
"Edith, I think the permission is implicitly rescinded if the person to whom it was granted leaves the daughter at the altar."
It was difficult to argue with that logic.
Anthony stepped forward and brushed his hand against hers. His profile was determined. Edith wanted to melt into his arms. The two of them together, far away from having to explain themselves. "Lord Grantham, I did not seek your permission because it would have been an insult to do so."
"You did not seek it because you knew I wouldn't give it."
"I did not seek it because Edith and I were going to be married no matter what you said. I needed to marry Edith, I love her and, unless I'm mistaken, she feels the same. It would have been an insult to act as though the arrangement was contingent on your approval. It wasn't and it isn't."
Lord Grantham rubbed his forehead and looked to Cora's face, as though seeking answers. "I just don't understand. Before you practically begged me to talk you out of marrying her – you were a fountain of excuses – even after you'd proposed."
Anthony shrugged, "I know. I think I was unwell." He looked down at her and smiled, "I am not unwell any longer."
Tom cleared his throat, "well, congratulations are in order." Lord Grantham scowled and Lady Grantham went to his side and talked into his ear in hushed tones. Tom kissed Edith on the cheek and shook Anthony's hand, "very best wishes. I must get back to work."
Rose also stood and kissed them both, "Yes, congratulations. It's wonderful, truly."
"Thank you Rose." Her exit left only Crawleys and Strallans, looking uneasily at one another. Robert and Cora had finished their conspiratorial conversation and Edith saw her Mother give her Father a push in the back. He scowled and looked at his middle daughter and with a shake of his head he ushered Anthony out of the room, "Strallan, with me."
Edith's stomach spun and she turned to follow them but her Mother's hand was on her elbow, "leave them darling. They're going to talk."
Sitting herself tentatively on the nearest chair Edith missed Anthony's reassuring presence.
Mary broke her silence, "you didn't listen to me."
"I did, actually, but I could only battle with it for so long."
A smile tugged at the corner of Mary's lips, "love?"
Edith nodded, "love."
All the scenarios Edith had imagined weren't borne out when Anthony met her in the back of the car. Both his eyes were unblackened and his good arm still worked. Although his tie was loose, his hair was ruffled and his breath carried an unmistakeable smell. Incredulously Edith made the obvious enquiry, "are you drunk?!"
Anthony smiled guiltily, "hello, sweet one." He leant in and kissed her on the mouth, his tongue touching hers. He wrapped his arm around her waist and Edith exclaimed as her pulled her onto his lap.
"Anthony!"
"I love you."
With a softer voice and her hand in the hair on the back of his neck Edith asked what exactly had gone on with her Father after they'd left.
"He took me to the billiards room and he sort of took turns around it, as though it were Hyde Park in the summer. Then he poured two whiskeys and he asked me if I would take care of you." Anthony kissed her neck and held her tightly, "I said I always would, of course. He handed me the drink and we talked about the estate and farming. Then there were more drinks, it's a little hazy after that."
"That was it?"
"I was terribly convincing when I said I would take care of you. It was the truth, you see." Edith felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wondered how she could be entitled to so much joy. "Now then," Anthony's hand bunched her skirt upwards and he found the bare flesh of her thigh underneath, "there was talk of ravishing." His hand moved higher and Edith giggled. Anthony caught her lips in a kiss.